Help
by Obviously Insane
Summary: Fender just wants to help. Brenda


Help

"You know," Brenda whispered. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if this had never happened."

Fender glanced over at her. They were lying next to each other in the back of his old man's pick-up, staring up at the stars. It had been her idea to come and drive down to the beach in the middle of the night. Fender had most definitely been surprised when Brenda had called him earlier, telling him to pick her up. But he did what he was told, because it was Brenda, after all. He would do anything to make Brenda happy.

"What do you mean?" he asked, passing a her a peanut butter-covered pickle. He thought it was the most digusting combination in the world, but she ate the stuff like it was going out of style.

"This," Brenda gestured to her stomach, and she shook her head. "I'm so...tired all the time. My feet hurt so much, more than they ever did on the show. My back is killing me. I'm getting huge. I'm like a mountain now."

"No, you're not," Fender assured her. "You look great."

"Yeah," Brenda said sardonically as Fender took a swig of Cola. "I'm a total sex pot."

Fender choked on his drink, spraying the soda in his mouth everywhere.

"Oh my gosh," Brenda gasped, slapping his back. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Fender said hoarsely, trying to clear his throat. "It just went down the wrong tube, or something."

Brenda rolled her eyes and smiled at her dorky friend. He always managed to make her laugh. "It's not just that, though. No one talks to me anymore."

"That's not true," Fender told her.

"Yes, it is," Brenda shook her head. "I mean, the only time anyone takes the time to talk to me is only to call me a slut."

The boy raised his eyebrows at her vulgar language, but he let it go. He shrugged his shoulders. "_I_ don't. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Fender sipped his Cola carefully, inhaling the scent of the salty sea water. He, in all honesty, rather disliked the beach. Too much of that pesky sand that stuck to his pale skin, making it raw. It was a good thing they were still technically in the car, or else Brenda probably would've laughed at his hatred of something as mundane as sand. "Why'd you want to come down to the beach, anyways?" he asked her quietly, putting the empty soda bottle down. "I mean, of all places."

"I like the sound of the waves," Brenda told him, closing her eyes. "It's better than the constant whispering I hear, anyways."

Fender sighed, pressing his lips together. He wondered if it was completely obvious that he was in love with her. He hoped not, because that would make things between them heavy and awkward. She needed a friend right now, not someone that was pathetically in love.

"So, anyways," Brenda sighed. "I'm going to the doctor's tomorrow."

"Why?" Fender said, sitting up. "What's wrong? Is something wrong?"

"No," Brenda laughed at her friend's fretfulness. "Everything's fine. It's just one of those routine check-ups. Gosh, with all your worrying, you'd think you were the father, or something."

He pulled on the string of his high-tops, settling back against the car. "Yeah."

"I wish you were," Brenda said, and Fender felt like dancing, even though he knew what she really meant by it. "I mean, you know, because you've always been there for me. Unlike the actual father."

Fender looked over at her and glancing at her eyes. They were this really beautiful mixture of blue, gray, and green in the moonlight, and Fender couldn't look at them for too long without blushing. "He's just...scared."

"Don't you think I'm scared, too?" she asked, and Fender saw annoyance flicker in her eyes. "God, he's just so...God damn lucky, is what he is. He gets to hide what happened. I don't get that luxury, Fender. I have to walk around with his baby inside of me, and I hate it. It's like some...growth of cancer. And I know that sounds bad and horrible and mean, but it's just not fair. Not fair that I have to go through this alone."

"I'm here," Fender said quietly, and Brenda's eyes widened.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that," Brenda said. "I know that you'll always be here for me, and I really appreciate it, Fender. You're a great guy. But...it's different, you know? Most people get married if the girl gets knocked up. But Corny didn't want to have anything to do with me, or this baby. And honestly, if you know what's good for you, you won't stick around."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Fender snapped, glaring down at her. "How could you say something like that?"

"Don't tell me it wasn't going through your head," Brenda breathed. "Everyone else left. And if you stick around, Fender, people are going to talk."

"People are already talking, Brenda," Fender said. "You're what, six, seven months along now? If people weren't talking before this-"

"I don't want to mess up your life," she said quietly, and Fender furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't want you to have to be responsible for a baby that isn't yours. Jesus, you've been such a great guy through this. I don't know what I'd do without you, Fender. But, really, what are you going to do once the baby is born? Come over after school?"

"Yes!" Fender exclaimed. "If I have to. I'll learn how to change diapers, or whatever else. I mean, I know it's not something guys are supposed to do, but you need help. Brenda, you shouldn't have to raise this kid alone. That's asking too much of someone."

Brenda shook her head and touched her swollen stomach. "It's asking too much of _you_. You have your whole life ahead of you, Fender. Don't waste it trying to help me."

"I'm not wasting my time."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, and Fender chewed on the inside of mouth. He'd messed up somewhere in the conversation, he knew it. He'd said something that offended her, and they'd ended getting into a stupid argument. A stupid, stupid argument that would mess up everything. It wasn't one of those fights that would be forgotten the next day; he wanted to be in her life, she wanted him out of it.

"I want to go home," Brenda whispered, and she pulled on the sleeve of her shirt. "If that's okay."

Fender swallowed. The words that had been dancing along the tip off his tongue for the last few minutes slipped out. "You...you know, it's okay to ask for help once in awhile. It's okay to let other people help you out."

She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "I know," she said so quietly that Fender could barely hear her. "If...if you want to come with me to the doctor's tomorrow, Fender, I'd really appreciate."

"Sure thing," Fender smiled at her. It wasn't much, but he was fine with that. As long as she wanted his help.

* * *

_Yay! My first official Brenda/Fender (otherwise known as Brender) story. There will be plenty more, trust me. I have no idea how I came up with this couple, since it's so completely random. But I still love it. Hope you liked it.:)_


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